


moon girl

by angelcoreluna



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Kissing, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26289880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelcoreluna/pseuds/angelcoreluna
Summary: Luna and Noctis spend time together at a lake in Tenebrae.
Relationships: Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	moon girl

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a fanfic in years, but I had to do something for my girl's birthday. Hopefully, this is ok! It's just a short little flirty piece, not too serious!
> 
> Happy birthday, Luna! My angel, my moon princess, the love of my life!

Lunafreya stepped toward the cliff’s edge. Her white dress rumpled about her feet, she kicked it aside. These strands of grass as wisps pawing at her ankles, and the cool earth beneath her toes. She curled them into the dirt.

Below her, waters dotted in lily pads and wrangling weeds and the reflection of surrounding trees, the flicker of their leaves, their glorious green. She saw herself as a young girl, crouched in those trees. In every tree. She tugged at the tip of her platinum braid, draped about her shoulder. They were so high up. Birds chirped and the thick hiccups of frogs, and behind her Noctis shuffled his feet. 

“Are you nervous?” she called back, playfully. “Because I’ll allow you to-”

So, he pushed her. His fingers between her shoulder blades, these big hands bare of their glove. Man hands, such incredibly big hands; it was strange how much of her back he could touch. And his laughter ripped through peaceful forest as she wobbled to steady herself, arms circling. “You were taking too long!” he called out, just as she lost her footing, body plummeting to the waters below.

She screamed, “Noctis!” Held her breath. Smacked against the surface of the lake with a sharp splash.

Greenish, and she sank down deeper and deeper. Little fish, disturbed by her erratic movement, the thrash of her limbs, kick of her legs. So, she went soft. Tail of the mermaid, gentle girl with a body of pure liquid. A strip of tide, perhaps, the swirl and sway, and was she not the tide? How the moon called to her like a mother. _“Home come, my lovely.”_ Coaxed her near with the wan smile of that wide, glowing face. _“It’s time for tea.”_

Beneath the water, her cheeks puffed up with air, and eyes opened wide, that stinging sensation. She met the grey face of a trout. Hanging lower lip, how it observed her. How it seemed to think of her as the sunken figurehead of a pirate ship, not a woman at all. An artefact. It’s red belly and spotted spine, patterned like a cheetah. Maiden Brook trout, Noctis had once told her. 

Weight: roughly 3.2 pounds. Length: 20.6 inches in length. Give or take. She knew as much. Knew the lure best to seduce them in, the rod best for the conditions of the waters they resided in. Common to the Maidenwater of Lucis, docile waters, hence the name. Docile woman. Easy enough fish to catch. Not necessarily rare. So, Noctis had told her.

There was a photograph of him with a Maiden Brook trout hoisted above his head, dangling from the length of a hook. Beaming with pride in morning light, this toothy grin. He had sent it to her tucked into an envelope, accompanied by a short letter and the smell of freshwater, the sound of a rushing stream. His too long hair fell floppy about his face, and she traced with her finger where the skin showed. Held a magnifying glass to the picture so that she might catch his eye. 

She had read countless texts about them, these trout. Sat stiff at her desk in the library, pouring over books on freshwater fish and Lucian fish, and fish in general. Highlighted and analysed until the light of day drained from the hall, and moonlight spilled along dark shelves. Sleepless nights. Two in the morning, and then six in the morning, and the song of birds glistening. Rubbed her eyes, tired eyes. She dog-eared the pages of poetry books that mentioned them in passing: _“Her name was Maidenwater, and I cry / into her freshness. I come into her waters. Small trout / lap me up, unknowingly. Or / knowingly.”_

Pretended it was him reciting these facts. The excitement in his voice. Little boy, still.

Pretended it was her reciting the poetry. Little know-it-all. Still.

Lunafreya pasted the photo in the back of her diary. 

The fish flitted away, then, and she kicked upward, her hands slicing through water toward a glimmer of light, the sun. Or Noctis, her sun, which is the opposite of apt. Lunafreya emerged from the water, head slung back, to a heave of delicious breath. There was that laughter, again, throaty laughter. 

“Noctis!” she yelled, blinking water from her eyes.

“Luna!” he yelled back. 

“You’re not funny, you know,” but she was laughing, water dribbling from her lips.

“What?” he said. “The lady can’t handle a little water?”

“The _lady_ is correct,” she said. “And I expect to be treated as such.”

“Oh, she wants to be treated like a lady. Well, I think can do that, being a prince and all.” 

“I presume this is integral to the formal training you’ve received?”

“Yeah, definitely,” he said. “These are the basics.”

“Courting ladies?”

He smiled at her. “Courting,” was all he said. 

“Well, your country is indebted to you, your highness. For all your stately efforts.”

He placed a hand just below his chest and bowed to her: “My beautiful fish woman.”

“You are truly the most peculiar man I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve met other men?” he said. “I’m hurt, Luna.”

She laughed. “And I am forced to reiterate, not funny.”

Her body ebbed along the surface of the water, arms fanning out and her toes just about brushed the rocky bottom of the lake. A spider skipped by her on soft wing. The lithe petals of sylleblossoms floated on still waters, having blown in from the fields nearby. 

She called: “This is my siren song. Come to me.”

Noctis stepped back behind the cliff’s edge, so that she couldn’t see him. Ran forward toward the jump, his body curled into a cannonball. Fell to a huge splash, and Lunafreya lifted her elbow to her face to avoid the incoming, and giggled. 

“You are an absolute show-off,” she said. 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Gotta keep you entertained.”

“True,” she said. “And I am terribly difficult to amuse.”

“Yet you can’t seem to keep your eyes off me.”

“Well, you are something of a one-man circus.”

“Shit,” he laughed. “That’s what you think? Not what I was going for.”

He swam toward her but lingered at a short distance. Circled her, and she spun slow in that whirlpool he created, craning her neck to follow him just one step ahead. Ripples left in his wake like an alligator's tail whipped gently at her chest, her arms. She lulled in his current.

Eyes downcast and reddish in the low light, he observed her. Not at all like the fish had, not as an artefact, but as something tangible, bodily. Perhaps, he was wary. Saw some glint in her gaze as she dipped her lips beneath the water, and conjured bubbles with her breath. Knew of her biting teeth behind those pouted lips, and her scratching fingernails. Leviathan woman. Goddess of the seas. Bursting up in bodies of water, curved as the crescent moon. Screaming in voices unknown to men. Screaming like glass shattering, like gnawing on those shatters. 

She didn’t move to meet him. 

His hair dripped inky into the water, and she half-expected it to dilute the lake in black. “Your appearance is reminiscent of a wet dog,” she said.

“Oh yeah?” he said. “Think I should cut it?”

“Not at all, it is becoming of you.”

“So, you’re into me looking like a wet dog?”

“Little puppy dog,” she said, and he shook his head suddenly, like a dog dries their fur, flicked droplets of water in her face. She laughed, “Stop it!” and splashed him back, and he laughed, and they were laughing together, meters apart. 

Then she said: “I frighten you.”

And he shook his head: “No.”

“Are you afraid to touch me?”

“I’m not afraid.” 

“I’ve upset you.”

“No, Luna. Never.”

“Then, what is it?”

His hands had only brushed her back for a moment, pushing her from the cliff side. Those fingertips still singed into her back, their prints along her spine. Spotted Maidenwater trout. 

“I shall not dissipate,” she said. “I promise.”

“I know.”

Then she said: “Come then, funny man, entertain me.”

So, he kissed her. Rushed forward at the sound of her voice, his arms outstretched to her, desperate. Like he had been reaching out to her his whole life. Grabbed her neck, and guided her lips to his lips and kissed her. Sighed into her open mouth.

They pulled apart, so close their breaths mingled. His heat sizzling at her wetted lips. She knew she was pink, the warmth of her face. His black hair, its ends dripping, clung to his cheeks, fell beyond his chin. She touched that hair, stroked her fingers through it, smoothing it back from his face, his eyes. Blue eyes. Cupped his cheeked. “My handsome boy,” she said softly.

“Not so much a boy anymore.”

She shook her head: “No, not at all.”

He was watching her lips, which smiled faintly, his own agape, and the dip of his eyes. Touched the curve of her waist like those weeds, wispy, the strong muscles of her back. A woman. Not the mast of a guiding ship. Not the moon, white-faced and gleaming and unconcerned, or her light on book shelves, or the ebb of her tides. She wasn’t too far away to hold. Not the distance of two planets. 

Beneath the water in nothing but a pair of white panties, his thumb teased the hem as his hands settled on her ass. He grabbed firm, his breath thickening as he hoisted her into his strong arms with ease. She wrapped her legs about his waist, tangled her ankles at the small of his back. Slipped her arms about his neck. 

“Shit,” he said. “How the fuck are you even real?”

Wet dog, stray animal. There was a growl in the back of his throat, hunger. She appeased him. Kissed him first this time, lathered his lower lip in her sweet spit, chewed and gnawed at the flesh. Animal. Animal. Hydraean. _It is in receiving mercy that men offer praise, and in shedding grace that gods solicit worship._ Unnatural woman. And didn’t she toss her chin back, the curve of her spine like a serpent? As he slobbered along her neck, marked the flesh from the jut of her collar bone, to below her ear. Nibbled at the lobe, sucked, and panted, hot breath, and she roiled in his big arms. Thrust her herself against him, made waves. 

He held her tighter. Hands squeezed the flesh of her fat ass, the glorious thick of her thighs, and she moaned into his mouth, shattered glass. Tongue of the Oracle. She muttered prayers he could not fathom. Scraped nails between his shoulder blades, dug into the muscles of his back. _What fool mortal dares break the slumber of the Tide?_ Under the water, he brushed aside the delicate lace of her bralette and teased at her nipple until it hardened. 

She puddled in his arms. Melted into the water as a woman with stones in her pockets slinks into a lake at midnight. The watchful moon, its single daunting eye, which offers no judgement. So, Lunafreya became liquid once more. Dripped between Noctis’s fingers as ribbons of silk and drowned to the bottom of that lake. The croon of those frogs, the water spiders, the trout which danced between her legs, about her shins as she fell. 

Lying there among reeds, as food for fishes and small insects, and nibbling things. Flower petals drifted, these bruises of blue. 

“Luna?” said Noctis. “Babe, you good?”

“Yes, my love,” said Luna. “I am in ecstasy.”


End file.
